


Feel Like Home.

by Kali Cephirot (KaliCephirot)



Category: Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Doomed Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Sad Fluff, WAFF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-23
Updated: 2012-09-23
Packaged: 2017-11-14 21:51:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/519883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaliCephirot/pseuds/Kali%20Cephirot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry, who has been waiting for something to tip Susan into realizing why this relationship thing was actually a really bad idea for her, is pretty sure this is it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feel Like Home.

He busts her TV the first time he stays over her place. And two of her bulb lights. And he’s pretty sure her fridge made some weird noises that it wasn’t doing before. Susan laughs it off, tell him he’s being silly and she kisses him hard, pushing him down over her couch and riding him: the way she moans almost makes him forget about that for the duration of the night.

The fridge’s is dead the next morning, and Harry, who has been waiting for something to tip Susan into realizing why this relationship thing was actually a really bad idea for her, is pretty sure this is it.

But Susan still calls him and goes to visit at his office and when he asks her out she says yes and they go out to the movies and she comes back with him to his place, and Harry tastes the spices of her perfume on the spot where her jaw becomes her ear and feels her legs around his hips and listens to her moans and her laughter and the way his name sounds in her voice as she comes.

She has to pick him once after an impromptu trip to the hospital because he being there for longer than he has is the worst possibility ever. Harry’s groggy and in pain and he doesn’t pay much attention to anything when he agrees to go to hers since it’s closer and he just wants to sleep. He just leans against her shoulder as she helps him walk, apologizing for the mess he’s probably going to cause and Susan tells him he’s being stupid as she opens the door and guides him to her room and Harry just sleeps with an arm tight around her waist and his face hidden on her hair, in a place where everything is safe and warm and cinnamon scented and there are no nightmares and no monsters and where he doesn’t have to keep his guard up, if even for one night.

The next morning he wakes up alone, but he can hear Susan’s voice, singing Queen. He stands up, picking up the pants Susan left for him - she had used them once after they got rained after a date and it had been pretty hilarious watching her fold the ankle length five times before they stopped dragging - and fumbles unto the living room, calling for her, but then he pauses.

Where there was a TV there’s now an old-fashioned vinil record player. There are lightbulbs, yes, but there’s also plenty of actual oil-based-lanterns that hadn’t been there before. And Susan’s phone, previously a cordless modern thing, is now an actual disk phone.

“Well, look who’s up” she’s wearing his shirt. Not the one from the night before, but an old, threadbare flanel thing he had given up as lost to the clutches of Mister forever, her hair piled up and she’s smiling at him. “I was about to go and see if you wanted breakfast in bed. How are your ribs?”

“Still inside,” he murmurs, but then he points towards the record player. “And your TV?”

“Sold it. It’s not like I watched it that much, really.” Susan shrugs at his surprise. “I kind of want you around for a while, after all, so it didn’t make much sense to keep it. So, Harry, breakfast, yes or no?”

He’s still hurting from his bruises, but he still moves towards her and kisses her and her surprise and her laughter resound against his mouth as she tiptoes to wrap her arms around his neck.

(Hours later, they do eat the completely-cold-breakfast in bed.)


End file.
